ng
told, that he was thinking of the proposed engagement; when Miss Carr
sighed, and screwed up her face until it looked nothing but a network of
wrinkles, she knew that the old lady was blaming herself for negligence
in the past, and pondering what could still be done to avert the
marriage, and a most unpleasant knowledge it was. Lettice had lived all
her life in the sunshine of approval. As a little child everyone had
petted and praised her because of her charming looks; as a schoolgirl
she had reigned supreme among her fellows; her short experience of
society had shown that she had no less power in the new sphere. Cold
looks and reproachful glances were a new experience, and instead of
moving her to repentance, they had the effect of making her think
constantly of her lover, and long more and more for his return. Miss
Carr thought she was vain and selfish--Arthur said she was the best and
sweetest of women; her father called her a "foolish little girl"--Arthur
called her his queen and goddess; Miss Carr sat silent the whole of the
afternoon, sighing as if her heart was broken--Arthur had walked across
London many times over for the chance of a passing word. Other people
were disappointed in her, but Arthur declared that she was perfect,
without possibility of improvement! Lettice would take refuge in the
solitude of her bedroom, cry to herself, and look out of the window
wondering in which direction Norway lay, what Arthur was doing, and if
he were half as miserable at being separated from her as she was at
being left alone in London. Then she would recall the afternoon on the
river, when he had asked her to be his wife. How terribly in earnest he
had seemed. She had tried to say no, because, though she enjoyed his
attentions, she had never really intended to marry him; but the sight of
his face had frightened her, and when he had said in that awful voice,
"Lettice, do you mean it? Is there no hope? Have you been making a
fool of me for all these years?"--she had been ready to promise anything
and everything in the world if he would only smile again. And he had
been very "kind." It was "nice" being engaged. She had been quite
happy until her father came, and was so cross.

If Miss Carr could have been her own cheery, loving self, and talked to
the girl in a natural, kindly manner, still better, if she could have
had half-an-hour's conversation with outspoken Norah, all might have
been well; but Miss Car